


the shadow proves the sunshine

by BelovedCreation



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Speculation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-27
Updated: 2015-03-27
Packaged: 2018-03-19 20:19:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3622923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BelovedCreation/pseuds/BelovedCreation
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if certain events had gone differently? What if Snow White and Prince Charming had never regained the throne? What if Killian Jones had stayed in Neverland? The Enchanted Forest would be a very, very different place... -- Speculation for the end of Season 4 and the spoilers of a topsy-turvy Storybrooke.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the shadow proves the sunshine

It is new, this flicker of magic working through her veins, the wisps of orange that leak from her fingers to defend herself, to protect herself.

It is new, but Emma  _loves_  it.

She showed no signs of performing magic until one day when she and her parents, the rightful Princess Snow White and Prince Charming, were stealing scraps from ungrateful peasants and one of the idiots decided to be brave, pulling a knife from his belt and flinging it at her father. Without thinking or planning, on instinct, really, Emma had shouted, “No!” and a blast erupted and shook the ground beneath their feet.

When the dust settled, the worthless man was dead and the tales of Princess Emma, Sorceress of the Dark, began.

With her magic growing, making her stronger, making her fearless, a happy ending for royals without a kingdom is  _just around the corner._

*****

Only a few stories from his home managed to make their way to Neverland over the centuries. Kings and Queens and histories all blurred together, scraps of tales given by lads who cared more for local bullies than kingdom politics. But Killian had eagerly picked their brains as he sat around the campfire with Pan and the other boys, plotting his eventual revenge against the lad with an innocent face and a vile heart.

For all those years, he only dreamed of going  _home_  again.

And yet home is not the place he left. Hundreds of years have changed boundaries, kingdoms, rules, and fashion. He returns to the Enchanted Forest looking the same as when he had left, tattered Lieutenant uniform splattered with Pan’s blood, hair brushing his shoulders, and blue eyes with wisdom and sorrow beyond his years.

Killian Jones gets a haircut, a new set of clothes, and heads in the direction of the castle he had admired as a child, hoping that the years have brought a kindly ruler back to the throne.

*****

Regina is an annoying little twit.

It is one of the first lessons Emma learns as a child - who the ruler of their kingdom is and why she deserves to be thrown off the throne that rightfully belongs to Emma’s mother.

Greedy Regina, who turned the kingdom against Snow White and insisted that  _she_  should rule in her place. Selfish Regina, who claimed that Snow was the one who had killed King Leopold, Regina’s husband and Snow White’s father.

“ _Did_ you kill Grandfather, Mama?” Emma had whispered, chubby fingers brushing strands of blonde hair from her eyes.

“Well of course I did,” Snow White snapped. “That is hardly the point of the story.”

*****

A knife is pressed into the soft flesh of his neck, the sharp point biting his skin and a single drop of blood trailing down towards the hollow of his throat.

“Care to tell me what I have done to provoke your wrath?” Killian ask calmly, fingers curling around a blade at his side.

“I wouldn't touch that dagger if I were you, pretty boy.”

The voice is feminine and he wants to laugh, having not been bested by a woman since he was a lad - he only had occasion to battle with other boys in Neverland.

“You think I am pretty?” Killian smiles and spreads his hands in supplication, demonstrating his lack of weapon. “I am afraid I cannot return the compliment as you have yet to reveal yourself.”

A deft hand relieves him of his knife and her own blade leaves his throat, making it easier to breathe. But before he can dab at the blood staining his shirt, fingers dig in his hair and force him onto his knees.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you to bow before royalty?”

There is a very beautiful woman before him - large eyes, dark hair, and formfitting leathers on her trim body. At her side is an equally handsome man, gripping the sword at his waist and giving Killian a dark, hostile look.

The woman raises and eyebrow and cants her head to the side. “Answer me, imbecile,” she demands in a soft, dangerous voice.

“Snow White.” He closes his eyes, imitating the bow he cannot perform under the current duress. “Prince Charming.” He grins, a malicious thing he learned by studying Pan. “I have come to pledge my allegiance.”

*****

Emma’s fingers dig deeper into the man’s thick black hair and she has to resist the urge to draw her knife again. She doesn't trust him, not a bit. The only peasants who swear loyalty to her parents are ones who have been tortured into it, who have been so isolated from  _Good Queen Regina_  that they finally break down and agree to support the renegade royalty who would as soon shake your hand as cut off your head.

“What makes you think we want your allegiance?” Emma hisses, knowing that to kill the filth would bring about her parents’ wrath, powers or no powers.

“I am recently returned to Misthaven to find that the legitimate royal family have been cast out like garbage and an impostor sits on the throne. I seek to right that wrong in whatever way you need me.”

“You are hardly more than a boy,” Charming scoffs. “You could not have been very old when Regina stole the throne from my wife.”

“I have been in Neverland, where no one grows older, for the past four hundred years.”

The words are delivered without a trace of jest and Emma almost loosens her grip in shock at his audacity.

“Emma?” Her mother’s eyes meet hers and she understands the signal: look at the man and see if he is telling the truth. She releases him from her grasp and strides around to peer into his eyes and discern his level of honesty. Her parents have relied on her power for years now, the first piece of magic that had manifested, they now realize. She can tell when someone is lying and her accuracy is impressive.

But when she meets his gaze she feels a moment of shock, his blue eyes connecting with hers and sending a jolt of surprise up her spine, as if she has seen this man before. This is impossible, of course - she certainly would remember a man with such a sharp jaw and flirtatious smirk, someone with tantalizing dimples and sparkling eyes. And, if his story is to be believed, he was born centuries before her own birth.

“What is your intention?” Emma asks when she has come back to herself, fingers dancing by her blade in case she must strike.

“My intention is to serve the rightful ruler of this land.” His head inclines. “Snow White.”

*****

They let him join their camp, the royal couple and their daughter, Princess Emma, whose wild blonde hair and hard green eyes make his stomach turn in knots of fear and arousal.

His weapons are taken from him, but they allow him to eat their rabbit stew and to sleep near them in the clearing. Killian has been begrudgingly accepted into their party.

Just as Regina had planned.

*****

He says his name is Killian Jones and Emma must admit that he is a helpful commoner to have around. He can build a fire and hunt, he volunteers to keep watch at the worst hours, and when he spars with the three of them, Killian Jones proves himself better than Regina’s White Knights.

They spend much of their time like this, practicing their skills under the cool shade of the dense forest. Sweat accumulates on her skin more quickly when she clashes swords with this new partner, moisture pooling under her arms and between her breasts. Her cheeks flush when her shoulder blades hit the hard earth and Killian hovers above her, smirk wide on his face.

“Normally, I prefer to do other more enjoyable activities with women on their back.”

There is something about his smooth voice and the obvious innuendo and this strange prickle in the back of her neck that this is somehow familiar - it makes her lash out and her magic flares from deep inside, hot and angry. In a moment he is across the clearing, on his own behind, and she leaps up to glare down at him.

“Why am I not surprised you prefer to be on top?” She grins and sheaths her sword as he wriggles against the invisible ties. “But you must know, Killian, that I am a woman who will always,  _always_  be on top.” Emma flicks her wrist and releases him.

“You posses magic!” He sits up, runs his hand through his messy midnight hair, and gives her a dazed expression. “Like Queen Regina.”

“No, not like  _Queen Regina_ ,” Emma spits, feeling the magic well up again, crackling from her fingertips. “That twit’s magic comes from goodness, whereas mine comes from  _evil.”_

*****

How could someone filled with such darkness be so damn beautiful? And why is Killian so drawn to her?

He had spent every day and night of the last three hundred years next to the darkest evil he had ever seen. Eyes cold and unfeeling, fingers that loved to wrap around the necks of insolent Lost Boys, pressing harder and harder until they went limp. When they awoke, those boys were always more loyal to Pan. Always more willing to do whatever dirty deed he had cooked up.

The first time Killian had awoken from Pan’s suffocation, it had taken all his willpower not to dig his dagger into the brat’s own neck. Ahhh, but finally killing him had been  _bliss_.

Sent to spy on the royal trio, Killian had at first been afraid to jump back into darkness. He was prepared for Pan in triplicate. But they are nothing like that. Snow White and her family have no desire for torture for torture’s sake. They crave power and infamy. Whatever they must do to meet that end is justified, no matter how many bodies are strewn in their path.

It is a chaos, but one that could be controlled and placated.

There are even some days, as he and Princess Emma go scouting, as they hunt and trap and spar, that Killian thinks he may see  _something_  in her eyes. The closed-off green sometimes flashes and he can see an ocean of pain and confusion. At those times, he starts to wonder how  _evil_  Princess Emma really is.

And then he watches her torture a peasant with her magic, orange sparks shooting from her elegant fingertips into his shaking body, berating him for refusing to give them his last coins - that is when he sees how dark her heart is.

But damn it all if he doesn't feel his knees go weak when she gives him a wicked smile as she tosses the pouch of coins his way. What the bloody hell is wrong with him?

*****

Emma’s instincts scream at her to not trust this man, the former Lieutenant who has joined their party. The only ones she can trust are her parents, the only ones who love and take care of her, the only ones that protect her from the common folk that would like nothing more than to see her body swing from the gallows. It has been the three of them since her birth. Three against the kingdom, against the world. No one has remained in their circle for long.

Except for Killian Jones. His playful smirk even seems to be affecting her father and the two men have been seen to take longer and longer walks around the perimeter, and they often share jokes that Emma and her mother remain clueless about. Her father appears lighter, brighter, happier even.

It is strange. And Emma does not trust it.

*****

Killian has been with them for over a month when it happens.

Emma is on guard that morning, perched by the fire with a cup in one hand and a spellbook in the other, eyes squinting over the strange symbols inside. Strictly speaking, she should be scanning the forest and keeping watch for danger. But she does not appear to care, her recklessness making Killian smile as he stares at her from his tent, eyes half-open in the dawning light.

There is a lock of hair that has fallen against her cheek and she is much too focused on her book to notice. The sun’s rays caress that lock and Killian wishes that he could be the sun, to touch the golden beauty of her hair and to make her shine with his affection. Such thoughts have been coming to him more and more often, and he has given up on brushing them away.

As he gazes upon the princess, he sees a flash of white before his ears pick up the sound of hooves, heavy against the dry forest floor. Killian sits up, breath caught in his throat, and only has time to register the faint image of a bow being pulled, taunt and deadly, before the breath rushes from his chest and he bounds forward, shielding her body before the arrow flies into her heart.

Then it is pain, dark and red and wet, something sharp in his side and he cannot breathe, how is he to live if he cannot  _breathe_? He inhales shallowly and grits his teeth against the burning in his lungs.

Her magic shakes the forest for a moment and then she is kneeling beside him. “Killian. Killian, are you aright?” She holds his face in her hands and he laughs a bit, too amused to let himself get swept up in more silly fantasies.

“You’ve- you’ve never called me  _Killian_  before,” he wheezes. It was always  _peasant_ or  _commoner_ or  _filth_  if she was in a particularly foul mood. “You should do it more often.”

“Killian, you are a fucking idiot.” She laughs too, the exhale warm on his cooling cheek, and he finally cracks open his eyes to look at her. The cold green jade is gone, replaced by the vast emerald ocean and he can tell she is swimming in confusion and fear. “Killian...” She lifts him slightly so his head is resting on her lap. “Killian, why would you do that?”

“You’re my princess. I swore my allegiance.”

“No.” She shakes her head slightly and the blonde curls twinkle in the sunlight. “No, that’s not why.”

It hurts like hell, but Killian still lifts his hand to tangle in that hair, to feel for himself,  _for once_ , the silkiness of the golden locks. “Perhaps, perhaps I couldn't stand the thought of a world without you.” There is a pain in his chest that he knows has nothing to do with the arrow in his side and everything to do with the way she is looking at him in this moment.

To his utter surprise, Princess Emma takes his hand and brings it to her cheek, cupping the velvet flesh and leaning into his touch with a flutter of her eyes. “Killian,” she whispers, gaze returning to him with a steadiness he has never seen from her before. “Everything is going to be fine.” Her palm leaves the back of her hand and rests gently on his wound. There is a warmth at his side that is now familiar, her magic flowing from her body to his.

He lets his lids drift shut at the comforting relief of pain. Killian exhales slowly and smiles.

A moment later, soft lips press into his smile and the tightness returns to his chest when he realizes that Princess Emma is  _kissing him_.

***** 

There is something about the trust in his face when she begins to heal him, the wonder in his gaze as his palm rests on her cheek, the way he takes an arrow for her without a single thought.

That is why she kisses him.

There is something tugging on her black heart that feels strange and heavy.

And when she pulls away and a shock wave radiates out, a pulse bouncing off the trees of the forest, Emma realizes what this feeling is.

_True Love._

The memories come back lighting-fast, as they had when she swallowed the memory potion on the streets of New York.

Henry coming to get her.

Storybrooke and the insanity of wondering what the hell was going on.

Breaking the curse and being reunited with her family.

Falling through a portal and meeting princesses and meeting Captain Hook and finally going home again.

Neverland. Being a mother. Being a leader. Kissing Hook and hearing his declarations.

Losing everyone.

Finding them again.

Losing Neal.

Falling back in time. Ruining everything. Fixing it again and going  _home_.

Kissing Killian.

Battling the Snow Queen and losing Ingrid, the first woman who felt like a mother to her.

Rumple and the Queens of Darkness trying to get their happy endings and enacting a curse that turned everything upside-down.

And an entire lifetime that never happened.

***** 

“Emma!” The injury now gone, a flash of memories return of his real life, of flying back to the Enchanted Forest with Liam, piracy, Milah, and Neverland again. Meeting Emma and falling for her and following her to the ends of the world and time.

And a curse that tore them apart again.

“Emma, love, we found each other.”

His arms wrap around her and he kisses her, deep and needy, eager to make up for lost time, for a month of longing and pain. To be with her, and yet not.

“So I see it worked.”

The sarcastic drawl surprises them both and Killian and Emma look up to see Regina striding towards them in a stark-white gown. She raises a single eyebrow and sneers a bit at their intimate position. “Sorry to interrupt, but just because your kiss broke the memory spell doesn't mean we are done saving the day. I need the Savior’s magic to send us all back to our rightful reality.”

*****

It takes a half a day to travel to the castle, to the place where Emma’s false memories tell her she dreamed of returning in victory. She and Regina join hands with Elsa, who has been recruited by the Queen for this very powerful spell, and then Emma opens her eyes to see a familiar street lined with shops and cars and a very relieved Henry running their way.

“Mom! Mom!” His arms wrap around both her and Regina, Elsa back in her own realm. “How did it go? Did the plan work?”

“Your plan rocked, kid,” Emma smiles, ruffling his hair before going in for another hug. “Regina found Killian and sent him to me and we, uh, broke the spell.”

“True Love’s Kiss, huh?” Henry’s eyes dart to Killian, who is sheepishly scratching behind his ear. “I guess that means you’re sticking around, Killian?”

A rough hand finds her own and Emma laces their fingers together, shooting Killian a shy look. “As long as your mother will have me, I suppose.” Emma pulls him closer, resting her head on his shoulder and sighing at the familiar feeling of his body next to hers, comforting and supporting. She had missed him, really, over the last month. It wasn't the same when she didn't remember him, didn't remember their past or all they had been through.

But when he jumped in front of that arrow and she held him in her arms, dying, something deep inside told her that this was more than a loyal companion, that he didn't put himself in harm’s way because of his allegiance, but because of the kindness in his eyes when they spoke and worked side-by-side and the way he was constantly watching her, admiring and on the lookout for danger.

He had loved her, even then, even banished to a different reality by forces of evil. Even when  _she_  had been evil. He had loved her.

And when they crawl into her bed that night, sighing at the softness of her modern mattress and down pillows, she holds him close and whispers something she had been too foolish and scared to say before now.

“I love you, Killian,” she says, palm on his cheek and bodies pressed close together under the quilt. “I love you so much.”

“Emma, I have always loved you.”

When their lips meet, there are no shock waves or pulses of light. Only two hearts beating in sync and a pair of lovers who would face anything to protect one another.


End file.
